


Falling Again

by fortunatefolly



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8633899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunatefolly/pseuds/fortunatefolly
Summary: What happens after the blinds are closed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I swore I wouldn't write for this pairing, but well, HERE I AM. ~~Blame~~ Thanks goes to [missparker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missparker) and [parcequelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parcequelle) I CAN'T BELIEVE I LET YOU GUYS DO THIS TO ME

“Will this do?” Serena says.

This can’t be real, Bernie standing in this office, practically having poured out her heart, been more earnest than she has ever been, and instead of being pushed away, she is now wrapped up in Serena’s arms. She can stitch up a bloodied body with shells exploding within 10 meters of her, but exposing the chaos of her untangled thoughts, throwing feelings to the open air, to another human being, that’s never been met with anything but heartbreak. 

But Serena is kissing her. Bernie was prepared for everything. For rejection. For anger. To beg. To grovel. But Serena kissing her, with hope for a bright future, that she wasn’t prepared for. But now that her fantasy is handed to her on a silver platter, she doesn’t ask questions, she kisses back with everything she’s got.

Jason is yelling about something, and Serena mumbles, “Ignore him,” against her lips. She tastes like mints and fruit and home, and Bernie can feel their breasts pressed together and her head spins, adrenaline coursing through her the way it does when she’s in theater. 

She yanks the blinds closed. Her breath hitches when she feels the scratch of Serena’s nails against her scalp, her fingers clawing at her hair tie and throwing it against the window. It hits the other blinds, and Serena pushes enough that Bernie has to step back or fall. So she steps back and pulls Serena with her, Serena who reaches over and closes those blinds too.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Serena mumbles against her lips. Bernie grunts in agreement. How many nights had she dared to touch herself in Kiev, cold and shivering under the blankets, thinking about their last kiss here in this office? Fantasizing about repeating that moment and then some more, just like this?

Jason’s voice yells something again, and Serena groans loudly – Bernie can feel the vibrations against her lips and feels them tug into a smile. She takes command, tugs Bernie’s face with both hands as she walks backward, her back slamming into the door. They both moan as Bernie slams into her, pressing her even further into the door. 

Serena’s hand slaps against the door, searching for the lock from inside. But she pats blindly, and Bernie turns her gaze downward, wraps her hand around Serena’s and guides it to the lock.

“Thank you,” Serena mumbles. _Click._

Bernie pulls away to yank at the final set of blinds. Why does this office have so many bloody windows? She is gasping – she really needs to quit smoking – and turns to Serena, knows her eyes are wide. 

“Are you sure?” she whispers.

That locked door, the intentional locking from the inside, can’t possibly mean what Bernie thinks it means. They haven’t even been on a real date. Hell, they haven’t even had a kiss that lasted more than a few seconds. And there is still so much talking left to do, so much forgiving left to do. But Serena is looking at her with eyes full of hunger, and Bernie swallows, the sound of gulp piercing the humming of the computer fans.

“Yes,” Serena says, her eyes flooding with desire and determination. “I bloody waited for you long enough,” she says, her hands reaching for Bernie’s scrubs, and Bernie lets herself be yanked, lets herself fall into her embrace as she kisses her again.

“Oh god,” Bernie hears herself mumble as Serena’s hands wrap around her waist, holds tightly as she pulls their hips together. A duet of moans fills the office, and Bernie opens her lips. Their kisses so far may have been passionate but not unbridled, staying behind perceived lines of appropriateness. Nothing more than lips pressed against lips. But now, she feels the first touch of her tongue tangling with Serena’s.

And she’s falling. 

If the transfer, if the option of leaving again was her safety bar, it’s been yanked out from beneath her. And Bernie is falling faster and harder than she has in her entire life. 

And for the first time, she doesn’t want to stop. Not if it means losing Serena again. She pulls her lips from Serena’s, bends down to taste her neck, licks roughly up that ivory column, strong muscle underneath soft skin. And the sounds escaping Serena fill her up with pure ecstasy. There aren’t enough cigarettes in the world that could light her up this way. She tugs the blouse down past her shoulders, her eyes taking in as much of the newly discovered skin as she can before she leans in, kisses the freckles.

But Serena tugs her face back up and pushes, and then Bernie actually physically falls, backward onto the desk as her ass collides with it, Serena pushing her against it.

“Oompf,” she mutters.

“Are you—” Serena asks, pulling away, and Bernie nods and pulls her back, not wanting to lose this connection even for a second.

“I’m fine,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and raspy as she claims Serena’s lips again.

Her hands wander, down Serena’s back, her hand gliding over the stiff fabric of her new blouse, and she reaches that ridge where her back ends and hesitates, uncertain just how far she’s allowed to go, just how much Serena has forgiven her.

But when Serena bites Bernie’s bottom lip, runs her tongue to smooth the sting, Bernie’s hands fly down on their own, squeezing, gently, then again with more force. Serena cries out and grinds her hips into the thigh nestled between her knees. 

So much heat. So much blazing heat.

Bernie encourages her, using her hands on Serena’s bum to guide her as she starts to grind against her leg with rhythm, their breaths loud and panting. Bernie dares to set a hand free, dares to glide it underneath the blouse, slides it up until it’s filled with a breast. She dares to squeeze and is rewarded with a hard buck of the hips and a loud moan.

“They can hear us,” Bernie whispers into the soft skin of Serena’s chest.

“Tell them to listen for all I care. They’ve heard everything else,” she gasps.

Bernie would laugh, feels the laughter building inside of her, attempting to spill out, but then there is a banging of a fist, or maybe a foot, against the door.

“Auntie Serena,” Jason’s voice yells again. “You were due in theater five minutes ago.”

A sigh escapes her lips as Serena looks down at Bernie on her perch, her lipstick smudged, her blouse hanging off her elbows now.

“I’m sorry I lied earlier. I do have the key. Fletch says I should ask you if it’s alright before I unlock the door,” he yells, and the laughter finally pours out of Bernie. The stretch of her laughing muscles is unfamiliar after months of atrophy. She can't remember the last time she laughed. Maybe before Kiev. There is so much joy bubbling out of her, swirling with an undercurrent of desire that’s fueling them both.

“I suppose we should get on then,” Serena says, pulling the blouse back up.

“I suppose,” Bernie whispers, although she can’t bring herself to move. She’s not sure her legs can function anymore. “I love that blouse on you.”

There is a storm in those eyes, mischief, desire, maybe even a little bit of the heartbreak. A little kissing isn’t enough to wash away the months of hurt. Bernie is responsible for that. She’s destroyed so much in her life, but she’s going to do all she can to drive away that sadness, even if it kills her.

“Thank you,” Serena mutters. She fluffs up the collars, grooming herself to be presentable again.

“Dinner?” Bernie asks, and Serena presses her lips together.

“You promise not to bugger off to Siberia if I say yes?” she asks, stepping back in between Bernie’s legs.

No, she was a world-class idiot for ever walking away. She’s done being stupid. 

“Promise,” Bernie says. “I’ll even bring the wine,” she adds. She rubs the smudged lipstick off Serena’s chin, her cheeks, her neck, runs a hand through her mussed hair, although the feeling of her hair between her fingers just revs up the desire again.

“Alright then,” Serena says, leans in for one last touch of lips. “Tonight, my place.”

She unlocks the door, gives one last sultry look before dashing off, leaving Bernie's heart galloping.

Yes, Bernie is definitely finished being an idiot.


End file.
